


Six Steps

by nohbadie



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Angst, Brothers, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, Forgiveness, Gen, Humor, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Long-Distance Relationship, Mentions of Paula, Murdoc-centric fic, Music, Overcoming past trauma, Post Phase 5, Redemption, Reunions, Road Trips, Secret Relationship, language warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-31 03:40:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17841767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nohbadie/pseuds/nohbadie
Summary: After a wild past couple of years, the Gorillaz are on a hiatus of unknown length, much to the ambitious Murdoc’s dismay: the other band members want to take advantage of this time to relax and enjoy themselves, whereas Murdoc doesn’t want to stop what they’ve got going, after almost fading into obscurity after Plastic Beach. A fight ensues, resulting in Russel, 2D, and Noodle formulating a six step self-improvement plan for Murdoc, which he reluctantly agrees to embark upon, but only for the fact that he sees it as a way to keep the band together for good, as they threaten to disband once again if he continues being his old self. The six-step plan takes the band on an emotional rollercoaster of a journey. Hilarity ensues, broken bonds are (mostly) repaired, a certain someone finds love, and the reader gets a deeper look into the mind of the scheming Satanic bassist who somehow pelvic-thrusted his way into the hearts of Gorillaz fans everywhere.





	Six Steps

    “Oi, cut! S’not right, s’not right!” Murdoc blurted out in the middle of the nineteenth take of recording what was supposed to become the Gorillaz’s latest track. “Murdoc, we’ve been recording for eight hours straight, and we’ve wasted at least three of those hours on that stupid song you want featured on the new album so badly! Can’t we just call it a day?” Noodle complained, plunking her guitar down onto its stand. “Yeah, besides, why the rush? Damon doesn’t even know when we’ll be releasing it, and I don’t fink we’ll be goin’ on tour for a while. Can’t we just take some time for ourselves?” 2D chimed in. Murdoc growled in frustration. “Don’t you idiots get it? We’re back, baby! We’ve released two albums, been on two sold-out tours, been featured in several music festivals, and won multiple rewards, all within the last two years. All that after a long, long hiatus, practically forgotten by the world, and now, we’re finding ourselves climbing back up to the top! We can’t just stop now, you can’t just stop me now, we’re the world’s biggest band and we’ve gotta— gotta— ah, forget it. You lot are too thick to understand.” he spluttered. Russel, who said hardly a word the whole day, save for a few exasperated sighs, clapped his large hand on Murdoc’s shoulder, glaring at him. “Listen man, we do get it: you’re on a roll, and we know you ain’t happy unless you’re makin’ music and soakin’ up the spotlight. But we’re only human, and we gotta rest, recharge our batteries, ya dig?” he said, attempting to be understanding, though he was just as sick of the green-skinned fiend as the other two band members were. “What he’s saying is that we’re all just tired, Murdoc. I feel like a break would do all four of us some good.” Noodle added, rubbing her eyes and yawning. Murdoc felt a twinge of pity in his crooked heart for his fellow band members, even for his human punching bag/lead singer 2D, who was doubling up on his pain medications and becoming more touchy as of the last couple weeks, no doubt from being overworked. “Alright, we’ll call it a night, but only ‘cos I’m feeling generous. I’ll get us some takeaway pizza, and then we’ll all get our beauty sleep afterward, yeah? And tomorrow, we’re back to making music!” he replied, finally relenting, to some degree. “No, Muds, we ain’t recording tomorrow or the next day, or the day after that, or for a good while. You’re overworking us, and we ain’t taking your shit anymore, not this time. Do something decent for once and order some sausage with stuffed crust for me, aight?” Russel groaned, rolling his eyes and shuffling out of the in-home studio. Murdoc, looking like he was on the brink of exploding, glared at the remaining two band members. “Well, what the bloody hell do you lot want? To throw in the towel just because you’re a bit tired? Piss away everything we’ve achieved and fade back into obscurity because suddenly it’s not so easy? You think I’m an infinite bundle of energy? I’ve been working day and night since I got outta the clink, before that even, to get us back to where we were, before... before...you know, the...the... incident. You’re exhausted, I’m exhausted, but we’re not stopping now! We’ve dedicated our lives to making music, and I’ll be damned if any of you nobs forget that!” he roared.

     “We’re not your slaves, Murdoc. ‘Ave you ever thought about how we feel? ‘Ave you ever thought about anyone besides yourself, ya selfish ol’ bugger? There’s more to life than fame and success and— and— all that, but we all know you don’ have a life outside of making other people’s lives miserable!” 2D retorted, slapping him across the face, which elicited a cry of shock from Noodle. The blue-haired singer’s resistance, entirely unexpected, actually caught Murdoc off-guard: since when was 2D genuinely anything put submissive and cowering towards him? “You useless, ungrateful twat! You’d be nowhere without me: you’d still be working for peanuts at that goddamned organ shop!” Murdoc snarled, striking 2D square in the sternum, bring him down to his knees, gasping for air. “You’re the selfish ones, not me! We’ve got fans counting on us to produce, we can’t let them down because it’s difficult right now!” he screamed, yanking 2D back up to his feet and shoving him into the wall. “You’re a bastard, a right proper bastard! Sometimes, I wish we all went our separate ways after El Mañana, so I’d never have to deal with the likes of you again! No, I wish I never agreed to be in your stupid band in the first place!” 2D squeaked furiously, trying and failing to punch Murdoc in the gut. “Stop, please stop, both of you, and you especially Murdoc! You two and Russ are the only family I’ve ever had!” Noodle screamed, her voice quivering, and her eyes threatening a distressed downpour. “Noodle, love, wait—!” Murdoc interjected, reaching out a calloused, tobacco-stained hand in a feeble effort to console her. 2D also averted his attention away from the squabble, his expression softening. “Noods, don’ cry now. I hate seeing ya cry. Murdoc and I are jus’ being stupid again.” he cooed, attempting to embrace her. She pushed him away, without even a split second of eye contact. “I’ll be in my room if you need me.” she sniffed, skittering away.

     Both men immediately felt a wave of regret wash over them. Though Murdoc and 2-D never seemed to see eye to eye, they both adored the spunky guitarist who they and Russel practically raised. The pair had been so absorbed in their conflicts with each other throughout the years that they frequently forgot to stop and think about how their bickering affected Russel and Noodle, who unfortunately had to watch many of them play out. “You upset her!” they both shouted simultaneously. The two stared daggers at each other, an uncomfortable silence following. “I’ll order the pizza. Pepperoni’s okay, right? Check on Noodle and Russ for me, got it, faceache?” Murdoc murmured, his nasal voice oozing with vexation. “Fine, ya old goth.” 2D grumbled, stamping down the hall, leaving the bassist alone. Alone: that’s how he felt for most of his life, whether he was sulking in the school corridors as a delinquent schoolboy long ago, or rocking out onstage at a concert, surrounded by devoted fans, not so long ago. To him, that was just fine, or so he liked to think. Truthfully, however, the philandering, underhanded, egotistic man craved the love of a true friend, authentic companionship that could stand the test of time. He longed for people to see him as more than a textbook example of a horrible human being, a failure, a waste of oxygen, but how could they after all the rottenness and grief he unleashed upon so many? However, he wasn’t totally heartless: he tried to better himself more than once, and show his affection for his bandmates in the only ways he knew how, but his colorful past ever had its hold on him, a death grip that would likely completely suffocate him in time. “What is wrong with you, Murdoc, you fucking dullard?” he said to himself ruefully, making his way to the kitchen telephone to call the local pizza parlor, and to the kitchen cupboard to fetch a bottle of potent liquor he’d been saving for a bad day. With a slow, solemn gait, he retreated to the balcony off the back of the house, his favorite place to escape to with things got to be a little too much.

                                                                                  *****

Some time later, the front doorbell rang, no doubt the pizza delivery boy. 2D found himself sitting solitarily, the thoughts in his painkiller-addled head lazily rolling around, none of them particularly cheerful or pleasant. Tentatively, he got up to answer the door. His empty stomach growled at the prospect of supper being just seconds away, yet he didn’t have much of an appetite to speak of. Upon opening the door, a pimply, redheaded youth with a plastic name badge reading “Hugh” shoved two pizza boxes and a greasy paper sack of garlic knots into 2D’s spindly arms. “Twelve pounds, sixteen pence, sir.” he asked, entirely unenthusiastic. “Right,” 2D sighed, noticing the twenty pound note Murdoc must have left as payment on the floor beside his left foot. He stooped down to grab it, and handed it to the boy. “Keep the change, mate. Nice tip for ya, huh?” he added, cracking an artificial smile. “Blimey, thanks,” the delivery boy beamed, looking up at 2D, “Hold on! You’re 2D from Gorillaz, yeah?!” 2D, mildly amused, answered, “Yeah, tha’s me.” The delivery boy gazed at him, awestruck. “You were wicked in Sleeping Powder! If it’s no trouble, can I get your autograph?” he babbled, producing a pen and a rumpled petrol station receipt from his back pocket to hand to the blue-haired singer, who chuckled and gladly signed the scrap of paper, writing:

_To Hugh the smashing delivery boy, from your mate, Stuart “2-D” Pot, lead singer of Gorillaz_

     “Thank you, 2D. You’re the greatest!” said the boy, giving 2D a firm handshake upon getting his now-autographed receipt back. “Any time, mate. ‘Ave a good one.” 2D replied warmly. He shut the door behind him, fragrant, piping hot pizza and garlic knots in tow, which he promptly deposited onto the kitchen counter. Despite the fawning boy’s words from a moment ago, 2D definitely didn’t feel like he deserved to be called the greatest, especially after getting into a fight with Murdoc and upsetting Noodle earlier. He ascended the stairs to rouse Russel and Noodle for dinner. He wouldn’t bother trying to persuade Murdoc to join them: it wasn’t worth the risk of getting into another skirmish. Besides, the surly bassist surely didn’t want anything to do with any of them at the moment. At the top of the stairs, 2D, in an absent, yet still morose state of mind, turned the corner, ready to face his distraught bandmates, collided into Russel, causing the portly drummer to fall onto his back, and the gangly singer to fall on top of him. “Ya know Russel, you’re a pretty comfy landing spot, better than the hard floor, anyway.” 2D tittered nervously. Russel, clearly not amused, rolled 2D off of him, muttering empty threats under his breath. “You gon’ see if you can get Noodle out of her room? Don’t bother, man, she’s real moody right now, I already tried.” he inquired. “Yeah, that and the pizza’s here.” 2D replied flatly. “Well I’ll be damned, Muds can be a man of his word once an’ a while.” Russel grinned, rushing downstairs to grab some of the savory slices for himself. 2D, on the other hand, continued on to the third floor, where Noodle’s bedroom was. He could hear a faint, dismal tune issuing from it, and the low trilling of her beloved pussycat, Katsu. 2D rapped his pale knuckles against the door, causing Noodle to utter a bitter, “What is it?” 2D cleared his throat: “Noodle, love, it’s jus’ me. The pizza Murdoc ordered for us is here, and I fink you’d be pretty hungry after shredding all day. Please come out, love, eat wiff us. Murdoc won’t be there, there won’ be any fighting. S’alright.” he coaxed, as sweetly as he might.

     She gave in to his beckoning, opening the door. Her mascara was smudged from weeping, and Katsu was snuggled into her arms, purring audibly as if to comfort her. “Oh, Noodle, ‘m sorry for how I acted, I really am. I know Murdoc is too, even though ’e’s sometimes a rubbish heap of a person, he loves ya like a daughter.” he apologized, stroking her cheek. She turned away, eyes fixated on the turntable from which the melancholy music came. “No, he’s a liar through and through. He doesn’t really care about me, or Russel, or you, or anyone but himself. We’re just tools to him, assets.” she spat angrily. “Noods, you know tha’s not true. You’re jus’ upset right now. If he didn’ care at all, he wouldn’ ’ave kept us all together as a band for so long.” he said quietly, wrapping his arm around her. “No, you just have Stockholm Syndrome. He’s got you under his spell.” she retorted. “Oh, come off it! You should have seen how much it wrecked ’im knowing you were missing after the El Mañana ordeal, even went to hell to rescue you after those demons snatched you instead o’ Russ. Even if it’s all ‘cos he wants to keep the band together to keep making music, tha’s still somefink.” he scolded. “But what about what all the abusive shit he’s done to you after all these years, huh? All fine and dandy is it? You even said earlier you wished you never joined the band!” Noodle scoffed. “Noodle, I never said that wot he did was alright, ‘cos it isn’t. I stay because you, an’ Russel, an’ hell, even Murdoc, are the most important people in my life. We’ve been through everyfink together, an’ I probably wouldn’t have gotten the chance to become a famous musician and make people happy with music if nuffink that happened happened, you know? An’ Murdoc, well, I don’ fink he’s all bad, really. A real twat much of the time, but I fink he’s just sad an’ lonely deep down. As for sayin’ I wished I never joined the band, well, we all say fings we don’ mean when we’re angry. I had to stick it to ‘em, get my point across.” he said in earnest. Katsu meowed to be let down, having eyed a pigeon outside the bedroom window. After setting him on the floor, she pulled 2D into a bone-crushing embrace, beginning to sniffle once more, and more intensely. “I just... I just don’t want him to hurt you! You’re practically my big brother, and my best friend, and I don’t know what I’d do if he ended up killing you someday.” she sobbed. He kissed her hair, and rubbed her back, trying to calm her. “Oh, don’ be daft, love. He’s not gonna kill me. Russel will string ’im up by ’is ears an’ feed ’im to the vultures before tha’ ever happens.” he giggled. “I know, I know, but the possibility still scares me.” she replied quietly. “Again, love, there’s nuffink you need to worry about. He’s an arse, but he’s no killer. All we can hope for is that maybe he’ll change someday. Says he wants to become a better person, an’ who knows? Maybe he really means it. Now come on, let’s get some grub before Russel eats it all.” he affirmed, patting her back and releasing her from his arms.

     Noodle cracked a little smile in the midst of her tears, looking down at her feet. “Okay. But first, can you make me some tea? Please?” she answered. “It would be my pleasure, love. Ya want that matchbox tea, or peppamint, or Darjeeling?” he asked. “Toochie, it’s matcha, not matchbox, and yes, I’d like some!” she chortled. “Huh, I s’pose you’re right. Been a long time since you called me that: I kinda miss it.” he mused. “Alright then, Toochie, but are you going to make me that tea or not? It’s been a long time since you last made me some, and I kinda miss it.” she quipped, punching him playfully in the arm. “Oi, that hurt! No tea for you!” he whined. “Oh, but you promised me, Stuart. Can’t go back on it now, or you’re no better than Murdoc.” she taunted. “You’re pushing it, young lady.” 2D grumbled. The two, still laughing and making cheeky jabs at each other, made their way downstairs and into the kitchen, where an expectant Russel sat at the table, chin covered in pizza grease, clutching a floppy slice in his left hand. “S-sorry I didn’t wait for y’all.” he stuttered guiltily. “No worries.” Noodle chirped. “D, how’d you get baby girl outta her room when I couldn’t?” Russel probed, cocking an eyebrow. “I, um, I just told her everyfink will be alright, and promised to make her tea. Quite simple, really.” he responded plainly. “Huh. Well that’s good, ‘cos I got something I need to discuss with you- about Muds, that is.” he said, gesturing the two of them to sit down.


End file.
